That bastard Mitch had kept her handcuffed for days. He’d starved her. Tried to take her away.
But the bruises had faded.
She’d healed.
Trace hadn’t forgotten the fear.
“Let Reese stay with you,” he said, as his fingers smoothed over her wrist. “Just for a few days.”
“F-fine. Just at first, okay? Because I won’t be kept prisoner by anyone. Not even you, Trace.” She pulled away from him. “I have to get back to my routine. I want to open that dance studio, and I will do it.”
Skye. Always so determined. Her determination was one of the things he loved about her.
He watched her for a moment longer as she puttered around the kitchen. “You didn’t like the diamonds.” He’d been worried about that. Skye wasn’t the type for flash, but he wanted to shower her in diamonds.
She glanced back at him in surprise. “Of course, I did. They’re incredible.”
He had the feeling she was just saying those words to make him happy. The woman didn’t get it. Everything he did was for her. If she didn’t like diamonds, then he’d get her rubies. He’d buy her anything and everything that she wanted.
But, well, he knew that what she wanted—Skye wanted to head back to her dance studio and work herself down to the bone again.
Trace cleared his throat. “I took the liberty of having some…upgrades made to the studio while we were away.” He figured he might as well tell her about those additions now.
Before they’d left town, Skye had rented an old fire station and she’d planned to convert the place into her new dance studio. He’d…helped…with those conversion plans.
“Upgrades?”
“Security. Cameras. Alarms.” Because he wouldn’t put her at risk. “I knew you’d want to go back.” He shrugged. “And I needed you to be safe when you did.”
Her lips tilted up and her eyes seem to warm. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
He did. Skye’s love was his certainty in life.
Sometimes, he felt like it might be his only one.
He smiled back at her. “Of course, you do. What’s not to love?”
And she laughed. A true, beautiful laugh. Light and free. He could see it then—see her coming back to him. Skye was pushing past her fear and trying to be happy once again.
He would do anything, everything, to make sure that she stayed happy.
“Arrogant,” she teased.
His head tilted in acknowledgment. He was. Arrogant. Controlling. Trace was well aware of his many faults.
And Skye still loved him? He was a lucky bastard, and he knew it.
“It’s a good thing you’re sexy,” she said, giving him a wink. “Something has to balance that arrogance.” And she left him, giving a saucy roll of her hips as she walked away.
He didn’t move. Just watched. Enjoyed the view.
I will always love you, Skye. Always.
When she gazed at him, love was in Skye’s eyes, too. Yet Trace couldn’t help but wonder…if she ever learned the full truth about him and all the things he’d done, would Skye still look at him the same way?
***
Trace had done more than a little bit of work at the fire station. “Upgrades, my ass,” Skye whispered.
He’d completely renovated the place.
Skye stepped inside the converted fire station, her gaze darting to the left and the right.
The hard-wood floors gleamed. Barres had been placed to run the length of the right wall. Floor to ceiling mirrors circled the main room, throwing her reflection back at her.
And there were—there were even storage lockers down the narrow hallway that snaked back from the main room. Shining, silver lockers for her students to use.
When she actually got her students to start attending her new dance studio.
“He said he’d installed new security here,” Skye said.
“Uh, well, you know the boss,” Reese replied from beside her. “The guy doesn’t believe in doing things half-way.”
No, he didn’t.
“He knew you’d want to come back here,” Reese continued. “And he told the crew that everything had to be ready for you.” He walked forward and motioned to the speakers that had been mounted on the ceiling. “Surround sound, you know, for that full dance experience.”
She’d come in, ready to get her hands dirty and her muscles aching, as she tore this place into shape.
But, in true Trace fashion, he’d done it for her.
“I can’t tell if you’re pissed or pleased,” Reese said, his drawl deepening as he scratched his jaw. “Kinda hard to determine from your expression.”
She stepped forward. “I think I’m both.” Pissed because he’d done all of this without her input but pleased because he’d cared enough to try and give her the dream she wanted.
Pissed or pleased?She still wasn’t sure.
Skye turned around and marched out of the main studio room. Trace’s crew had knocked out some walls, opening up the space. Columns secured the ceiling. The place looked huge.
“He left the fireman’s pole,” Reese said as he followed after her.
She glanced to the right. The fireman’s pole gleamed.
“The boss thought you might like it so he left strict instructions for the workers.”
Her gaze followed that pole upstairs. “What about the apartment up there?” Her hands had come to rest on her hips. Had Trace organized the apartment, too? Or had he been so sure that she’d move in with him that he hadn’t even bothered to touch that place?
“Uh…” Reese coughed. “Security was set up there, but I don’t think much else has been done.”
“Then I’ll do it,” she said, giving a firm nod. Because that upstairs area was still hers. She might be living with Trace, but she could use the upstairs apartment area as a refuge from the dance studio. She’d decorate every inch of it herself.
“He wanted to make you happy.”
Her attention shifted to Reese. He shrugged. “Trace…you know the boss doesn’t think like most people. He knew if you came back here, the way this place was…you’d work like a fiend to get it in shape. He wanted to help.”
“Trace likes his control.” Even in the bedroom. “But this time, it’s all right.” Because the studio’s condition meant that she could get her business up and running faster. She already had clients scheduled from weeks ago. She could contact them and get this place going—